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Round The Red Lamp | Arthur Conan Doyle | |
The Los Amigos Fiasco. |
Page 4 of 5 |
We three practical men looked at each other. Peter Stulpnagel smiled pensively. "I think that another one should do it," said I. Again the connection was made, and again Duncan Warner sprang in his chair and shouted, but, indeed, were it not that he still remained in the chair none of us would have recognised him. His hair and his beard had shredded off in an instant, and the room looked like a barber's shop on a Saturday night. There he sat, his eyes still shining, his skin radiant with the glow of perfect health, but with a scalp as bald as a Dutch cheese, and a chin without so much as a trace of down. He began to revolve one of his arms, slowly and doubtfully at first, but with more confidence as he went on. "That jint," said he, "has puzzled half the doctors on the Pacific Slope. It's as good as new, and as limber as a hickory twig." "You are feeling pretty well?" asked the old German. "Never better in my life," said Duncan Warner cheerily. The situation was a painful one. The Marshal glared at the committee. Peter Stulpnagel grinned and rubbed his hands. The engineers scratched their heads. The bald-headed prisoner revolved his arm and looked pleased. "I think that one more shock----" began the chairman. "No, sir," said the Marshal "we've had foolery enough for one morning. We are here for an execution, and a execution we'll have." "What do you propose?" "There's a hook handy upon the ceiling. Fetch in a rope, and we'll soon set this matter straight." There was another awkward delay while the warders departed for the cord. Peter Stulpnagel bent over Duncan Warner, and whispered something in his ear. The desperado started in surprise. |
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Round The Red Lamp Arthur Conan Doyle |
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